Sunday, April 30, 2017

The Third Sunday of Easter [Year A] - April 30, 2017 (Luke 24:13-35)

I
am unable to read or hear this story where Jesus appears as a stranger to his
disciples as they make their way to Emmaus without thinking of that TV show
“Undercover Boss.” In case you haven’t seen it, “Undercover Boss” is a reality
show on CBS prime time wherein a CEO or some other high-level corporate exec leaves
the office for a few days and secretly takes some low-level job within his or
her company to see how things are really being run and, more importantly, what
their employees really think of them. What’s critical to the show’s concept is
that the executives who go undercover not be recognized by those employees that
they encounter. A make-up and costume crew comes in to totally transform the
boss and then hidden cameras follow him or her around as they do everyday
things like make tacos or run amusement park rides.

I’m
not a big watcher of television, but I’ve seen the program a few times, and
it’ll draw you in. It’s won a few Emmy’s, and it’s in its seventh season. It’ll
also make a grown man cry. Each episode culminates with the revealing of the
boss’ identity, and it almost always catches the employees off-guard. They’re
surprised they were able to work alongside the person who runs their company, the
person who is responsible for the direction and ethos of the whole company without
ever knowing it. What makes the show especially touching is that the executive
is often moved to tears when he or she sees how successfully the people at the
bottom actually carry the company through their dedication and work ethic.

I
haven’t watched too many episodes of “Undercover Boss,” but I’ve never seen one
where the boss is disappointed in how his rank and file are doing. But if the
risen Jesus is an undercover boss this morning, coming unrecognized into the presence
of his followers as they make their way to the village of Emmaus, we might
catch a scene of disappointment. The disciples don’t seem to know what their
purpose is anymore. Maybe they’re too grief-stricken to concentrate. They don’t
believe the news they’ve heard. Maybe they’re suspicious of the preposterous
message that the women have brought them from the tomb. Furthermore, even with
all the help from the prophets and scripture, the disciples can’t understand
how the crucifixion and death of Jesus fits into any kind of saving plan of
God’s. Why is that? Maybe they’re still too convinced of the merits typical
worldly power which is enamored with violence and domination and threats and
fear. Suffering and dying doesn’t seem like the way a decent divine CEO would
run things. They were looking for their Messiah to start a fight. All in all,
if the business of the disciples is to have faith— if the business of Jesus’s
followers is to proclaim that Jesus is risen Lord of all—then they’re not up to
snuff.

The
main puzzler, of course, is that they don’t immediately recognize Jesus, their
boss. It’s not clear why this is, but we can assume that might have something
to do with their mental state. They are obviously upset; things didn’t go the
way they’d expected. At one point when the undercover Jesus asks them what
they’ve been talking about, it says they actually stop walking for a minute, looking
sad.

Road to Emmaus (Robert Zund)

The
question is: are our eyes bound to be any more open to the presence of Christ
in our midst? It’s easy to look at these guys thousands of years later and call
things into question, scratching our heads and wondering how they couldn’t have
noticed their very leader but are we any more observant? If it’s not sorrow or
grief that preoccupies us these days it could be ambition, work, busy-ness. It’s
so easy to get overcommitted these days. Sometimes I even fear that church adds
to that busy-ness factor, if we’re not careful. There was a report and interviewon NPR this week about how busy-ness has become the new status symbol in the
United States. It used to be people bought things in order to show off their
wealth and status, but now we’re showing off how packed our schedules are, how
many different things we’re doing. The report said that celebrities, for
example, post on social media, and whereas they used to show off things they
had, now they’re tending to boast about their lack of time.

I
heard about an interesting conversation a few weeks ago in our office between a
high school student and a mother who was in there taking care of a baby. The
student looked at the mother and said without any prompting, “I have some
advice as your child gets older. Don’t let him do too many things in high
school. We’re all involved in too many things these days and we’re all
exhausted.” Exhausted by our busy-ness, consumed with calendars—it’s easy to
see how it would distract us from possibly noticing special things like Christ
in our midst.

Road to Emmaus (John Dunne)

The
extremely gracious thing about Jesus on this walk to Emmaus, however, is that
he doesn’t give up on them. Jesus is not going to give up on us, even when we
miss him or are too preoccupied to receive him right away. He walks right along
with us. Just as he does throughout his life, he will present himself over and
over again, offering his grace and mercy over and over again, so that God’s foolish,
stiff-necked people will have the opportunity to receive him. As he continues
on their way, he begins with Moses and
the prophets and illuminates for them how Jesus’ suffering and death had
already been revealed in the Scriptures. There’s no telling how many times he
had done that before, but now he does it again, patiently but still secretly
giving himself in the Word.

Later
we find out that as Jesus was talking with them about the Scriptures, their
hearts were burning within them. When I hear that phrase I often think of
embers in a campfire that have grown black and cold over the course of the
night. They look lifeless and useless in the morning, but really there is still
a spark of life deep within them and all they need is a bit of air to coax the
warmth out of them. How often have we had that happen in worship or in prayer? We
feel that we’re just a shell of ourselves, our faith has died out, but then we
hear the line of a hymn or a verse from Scripture and something within us
begins to burn again?

What’s
interesting is that conversation alone does not reveal the undercover Savior
alone. It isn’t until they share a meal and Jesus breaks the bread that their
eyes are opened. Depending upon how you break it down, we have about five or
six different stories involving the resurrected Jesus in the four gospels. Three
of those accounts—at least half, that is—involve food. The last time the
disciples had been together with Jesus as a group had also involved a meal. There
is something about the basic human act of eating and sharing table fellowship
with one another that tells us something about God’s nature. There is something
about breaking bread as a community that makes it a way through which God
chooses to reveal and share himself.

Around
this table in Emmaus, once the day is ending, is where the reveal happens and
the undercover Savior lets his disciples in on the secret. He does not evaluate
their performance or give them a rating. He does not make any judgment on the
worth and success of this resurrection enterprise as if it all rides on their
shoulders. He simply offers himself to them again. That’s is where this
community is going to be nurtured and re-energized for its life together and
its mission in the world. As he eats in their midst and takes the bread, their
eyes are opened to who he really is.

A
few months ago we gathered at my grandmother’s house in North Carolina for what
would be our last Sunday meal with her. At the age of 98 she was moving into an
assisted living facility where she would not be able to host her family for
their weekly after-church southern dinner like she had for maybe sixty or
seventy years. She used to live for Sunday afternoons when her family could
gather and she could feed them. As I went through the buffet line that last
time, getting a dab from each dish and placing it on my plate, it suddenly
dawned on me that not once had I brought something to contribute to this meal. For
43 years I’d been a guest at that table and not one time had I even thought to
add something I’d made or purchased. To know my Maw Maw is to know that Sunday
dinner that she loved to provide. It is to know the chocolate cake and macaroni
and cheese that only she can make—because we’ve asked her for the recipe a
dozen times and no one can replicate it—will be there no matter what, and that
you are welcome to help yourself.

The Supper at Emmaus (Carravaggio, 1602)

Such
is the meal of bread and wine for our merciful Savior Jesus Christ. Eating here
is to know him, to understand what his mission is all about. Here he offers
himself each Sunday, each time this community gathers around this table. Our
altar care volunteers grab some bread from the grocery store on the way to
church, set the table with the chalice and wine, and Jesus shows up to let us
know just what he’s made of. His body is once again broken so that we each may
be made whole in forgiveness. His blood is poured out so that we can be
restored. To share this meal is to know who Jesus is for us and for the whole
world, as the community gathered around this table grows and grows.

Martin
Luther had a very unique way of explaining just how Jesus is present for us in
the meal of Holy Communion. It is not because the pastor has some special
ability to transform the bread and the wine. Neither is Holy Communion just a
symbol of Jesus’ body and blood, as if the only way Jesus is present is through
the power of our own thoughts and memories. No, Luther said that the true body
and blood of Jesus is “in, with, and under” the bread and wine. There you have
it: Jesus, the risen Lord, who has conquered death for us, is our “In, With,
and Under”-cover Savior.

With
the ordinary acts of pouring wine and breaking bread, Jesus is the “In, With,
and Under”-cover host who today comes to offer you his life once again. And he
says, “Come. Don’t worry about bringing anything with you. No need to
contribute to this banquet. Only the offering of your own brokenness and need
is all I will take.”

And
his hope is that deep within you is that smoldering ember. And as you eat and
drink and hear his word your hearts will once more burn within you—that once
more you realize your Lord is with you—and as you get up to go back on your way
and work alongside of him you will share with the world what you really think of him.

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with bishop 2016

About Me

husband, father, Lutheran pastor, child of God and wrestler with the Word.
The postings on this blog are made up solely of the sermons I deliver each week that I preach. As a pastor in a team staff situation, I am responsible for preaching approximately once every other week.
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